Chapter 8

Nyla's POV 

“Keep driving,” I murmured, my gaze still fixed on the rearview mirror.

He didn’t even need to look long. “That’s not one of ours,” he said, his voice low and firm.

“They could be police,” I muttered.

Matteo shook his head. “No badge drives like that. Rival crew. I’ve seen that car before,” he frowned. 

Of course, why didn't I think of it? Being tied to the Valenti name, even if only for a week before the wedding, has made me a target. Every enemy of theirs would definitely see me as an easy way to make a point.

But how did the rumor go so fast? I only arrived today.

The sedan’s headlights suddenly brightened. They were closing in.

“Lose them,” I said to Matteo tightly.

Matteo swerved off the main road, taking a sharp right into a narrower street. Neon signs from closed shops flashed across the wet asphalt, and puddles reflected the city lights like broken glass. But the sedan stayed with us, shadowing every turn we made.

“They’re not giving up,” Matteo said in a panic, glancing at the mirror.

Then it happened.

A sharp flash from their window followed by the crack of gunshots split into the night.

The rear windshield shattered, glass raining down in glittering shards. 

“Fuck.” Matteo cursed under his breath and slammed his foot on the accelerator.

“Stay low!” he barked at me, and I took cover.

Another shot hit the leather seat an inch from my arm. I ducked, my heart thudding in a steady motion, not fast. I’d learned a long time ago that panic only got you killed.

I reached into the corner of the leather seat and pulled out a pistol I had kept in the car in case of emergencies like this. The weight was cold, familiar, and comforting.

The sedan pulled up closer, their passenger leaning halfway out the window with his gun aimed right at us.

I leaned out my side of the car, aimed, and squeezed the trigger twice in a row. One bullet scraped their hood, sending sparks into the air. The other one cracked their windshield.

Fuck!

Matteo took another turn into a side street, the sound of tires screeching as we dodged a row of parked cars. Gunfire echoed off the brick walls, the noise bouncing so loud it felt like it was coming from everywhere all at once.

A bullet hit the side mirror, glass spraying my sleeve. The smell of gunpowder and burnt rubber filled my nose. My ears rang with every shot fired, but I stayed calm under the pressure.

“Two more blocks,” Matteo said, his voice tight. “If we can make it, we….”

He didn’t finish.

The sedan gunned forward, ramming the back of our car so hard that it threw me against the leather seat, my pistol slipping from my hand for a split second.

“Hold on!” Matteo yelled, turning sharply to the left.

The sedan tried to pull up beside us again, their passenger ready to fire point-blank. I grabbed my gun from the floor, aimed at the flash of his weapon, and fired. My shot hit the edge of his door, and he jerked back inside.

For a moment, I thought we might actually outrun them.

Then a black SUV came out of nowhere.

It turned sharply out of a side street ahead, hitting the sedan square in the side with a bone-rattling crash. The rival car spun, metal screaming, before smashing into a lamppost. The hood crumpled like paper.

The SUV stopped right there, blocking the road. Its doors opened almost in unison, and men in dark suits stepped out.

Even in the dim streetlight, the gold Valenti crest on their lapels gleamed like a warning.

One of them lifted a hand, signaling for Matteo to move.

“Go,” I said.

We drove past slowly. I caught a glimpse of the sedan, which had been wrecked, its driver slumped over the wheel, and the passengers groaning in the seat beside him. A thin trail of smoke curled from the hood.

The Valentis didn’t even move. They stood there, watching us pass like they were making sure I understood.

They hadn’t just saved me.

They’d been watching me.

I sat back in my seat, the pistol still warm in my hand. The city lights streaked past the windows, but all I could see was that crest, that quiet control.

The wedding was in a week.

And I had just been reminded very loud and clear that stepping into the Valenti world meant there was no way out without blood on the ground, but I was more than determined for this fight.

“To the Valenti mansion,” I told Matteo, and he nodded. For the first time, it suddenly felt a lot safer being with the enemy than being outside.

I glanced at Matteo, still processing the way he had handled the chase. 

‘Where did you learn to drive like that? And the smartness under pressure…?’ I asked, genuinely taken by surprise.

“I served in the military for a year,” he said with a small shrug.

I realized I’d missed that detail in his resume, a mistake I wouldn’t make again. I didn’t push further because he didn’t strike me as someone who liked talking about himself, and I wasn't the overly curious type in cases like this.

The moment we pulled into the estate’s driveway, the mansion loomed into sight, its lights warm against the night. Inside, the air smelled faintly of wood polish and sandalwood.

‘Your room is this way, Ms. Silver,’ a woman in a simple straight gown greeted me the moment I stepped inside. Her posture was stiff, her eyes careful.

I followed her up the grand staircase, our footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The hall was long, lined with framed portraits of stern-looking men—Valentis from different eras, all wearing the same unreadable expression.

She stopped at the last door on the left and opened it. ‘Everything has been prepared for you. If you need anything, use the phone on the desk.’

I stepped inside briefly; the room was elegant, with cream walls, heavy drapes, and a bed big enough to get lost in. But before I could close the door, something else caught my attention.

Across the hall, another door stood slightly open.

I didn’t mean to look, but my eyes were drawn to it. Inside, I could see part of a desk, a lamp casting a pool of light, and hear a low, steady, and firm voice.

Luca’s voice.

“I told you to handle it quietly,” he was saying, his tone edged with steel.

There was a pause, then his voice went even lower. “If they come near her again, make sure they don’t walk away from it.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine.

He wasn’t just talking about the shootout tonight. He was talking about me.

Was he trying to protect me?